


Na Vedui

by infinityonfic



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-04
Updated: 2015-02-04
Packaged: 2018-03-10 10:37:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3287192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinityonfic/pseuds/infinityonfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was but by a thread that the fate of Middle-Earth depended, yet they had succeeded. They had succeeded, and the most glaring evidence was that his son was standing before him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Na Vedui

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this](http://thranstille.tumblr.com/post/109913196041/hereticality-sure-its-nice-when-people-come) fabulous piece of art  
> Translations at the end. Any Elvish used is what I could find online after consulting a few sources; sorry if anything sounds off or awkward or cheesy.  
> Comments and kudos very very welcome and always appreciated.

Thranduil sat as he usually did, legs crossed and turned to one side spread lavishly across his throne. The months had been weary, more so than most he had encountered before. At last it was true: the One Ring was destroyed, as was Sauron. Word reached Mirkwood of all the major battles that were fought, and though he had longed to fight alongside them, his battle was back home.

Invasions had come and gone over the decades, some infiltrations leading to the escape of a few prisoners, but most were dealt with efficiently with as little harm as possible imposed on the kingdom. As the days got darker and the Ring came closer to its creator, more dark forces had come upon Mirkwood, and the Wood Elves had no choice but to fight and endure within their own borders.

He had kept his ears open to news from Rivendell, both before and after departure of the Ring for Mordor. Elrond had kept him informed of Legolas’ condition as best he could, for which Thranduil was ever grateful. If he was not home, at least Thranduil knew his son was safe under the watch of his kin.

It was months after peace overtook the lands, on the anniversary of his wife’s death, that a guard came before his throne, eyes wide in disbelief.

“What is it?” Thranduil asked languidly, a certain loathsome tone mingling in his words. He had dealt with enough that day and, being the day that it was, did not wish to welcome any more concerns. In fact, he had planned to retire to his chambers for the night once he was sure everything had settled down.

“My King,” the guard rushed, “It’s Legolas.”

Thranduil straightened in his throne, narrowing his eyes at the elf before him. “What of him?”

“He has returned.”

A silence overcame the halls that, although had existed before the bringing of news, seemed deafening. Moments passed where Thranduil stared at the guard before him, reading his movements for any telling of a lie. He saw none.

He had not heard much of Legolas after Elrond’s voyage to the Undying Lands. Albeit he kept high hopes for his son, knowing that he was beyond capable, but the concern never left him.

With months of silence and not knowing of Legolas’ whereabouts, this news sent the Elvenking into a stunned silence.

Finally, after inhaling slowly to assume his composure, Thranduil nodded and said, “See to it that he is fed. Ensure that his chambers are cleaned and prepared so that he may rest.”

“But my King,” the elf guard said, though he fell silent the moment Thranduil’s eyes met his own again.

“Go on,” Thranduil prompted, and the elf cleared his throat.

“He wishes to speak with you.”

Thranduil rose and made his way down the stairs that wound around one side of his throne, standing tall before his subject. “He may see me tomorrow when he has rested.”

The guard nodded, not moving as Thranduil walked past him. He gave some final orders to the guards that stood by his throne before heading to his chambers.

~

He had busied himself enough that day that he did not get time to drink (not that he would ever do so while on duty). Though he knew it inevitable as he walked alongside the edge of the small pool of water that he would not end this day without a drink when reminders of her passing haunted him so relentlessly.

He picked up a bottle of wine. It seemed that the empty one had been replaced with a fresh bottle while he was away.

Though it is well known that elves hear the slightest of movements, Thranduil was distracted enough by his thoughts that he did not hear the light, practiced footing of an elf making its way into his chambers while he poured himself a drink.

“I thought I would find you down here.”

 _Legolas_.

Thranduil paused, putting the glass gently onto the table without taking a sip.

“I suppose I should have anticipated this,” he said coolly. He turned around and saw his son standing before him. He looked every bit as strong as the day he left. Something in Thranduil’s chest shifted, forcing him to blink rapidly a few times before inhaling deeply. “Though you did perfect the art of sneaking around as a child. Even if I had been prepared I do not expect I would have heard you. Sometimes I wondered if you would ever be as good a warrior as you were at eavesdropping.”

Legolas smiled fondly at his father. “I suppose I’ve maintained that over the years, have I not?”

Thranduil’s gaze softened, his head tilting to one side. “ _Ion nín_. I assure you, you are a better warrior than most I have known.”

Legolas watched his father for a moment. “Why did you not wish to see me earlier?”

“I did never not wish to see you,” Thranduil corrected, “I only said that you ought to rest, and then we could talk.”

“I am well rested,” Legolas assured his father.

After a moment’s pause, Thranduil brought his hand to his heart, and then out again towards his son, a gesture that Legolas returned. His eyes flickered over his son, as if taking him in should he disappear without a moment’s notice.

“The rest of the fellowship, how are they?”

“They are well,” Legolas replied. “We lost one not far after Rivendell, Boromir, if you know of him.”

“A pitiful loss,” Thranduil offered.

Legolas nodded, adding, “But there were a few times when his loyalty almost faltered. He’d wanted the Ring for himself to take back to Gondor.”

Thranduil tilted his head to one side and assessed his son. He seemed to have matured in a way that unfortunate experience imposed on one, not so much by age or immortality.

“Still he defended and fought with you, did he not? And his death was on those grounds?”

“His sacrifice was an honourable one,” Legolas agreed.

“And of the others?”

“Aragorn remains in Gondor. I’m sure you’ve heard of him taking to the throne. He is married to Arwen.”

Thranduil smiled briefly at that. “Yes. Elrond would not have it any other way lest she had left for Valinor with the rest.”

“Speaking of which,” Legolas continued, “Gandalf crossed over with Frodo and Bilbo. The rest of the hobbits returned to the Shire.”

Thranduil listened contentedly, all the time a fondness growing in him that he almost forgot he could feel.

“There was also a _dwarf_ , was there not?” He asked, voice straining slightly on the word, a slight spite that got caught on the word by habit.

“Ah, Gimli,” Legolas muttered, his eyes straying from his father. “Yes, he… He’s actually resting in one of the guest chambers. I insisted he stopped here before returning home.”

“Oh,” Thranduil said simply.

“I understand if you disapprove, Ada, but he’s a good friend.”

“Legolas,” Thranduil interrupted. “He who has aided in the removal of the dark forces from these lands and stood by my son in war shall not be denied welcome. It would be unfair to impose upon him the petty grievances of his ancestors after all that he has done for us. I shall see him in the morning, and I assure you I will be wise to it long before you make it down here if you try to sneak him along. You may be light footed, but a dwarf never is.”

Legolas smiled, and as Thranduil felt a rush of contentment yet again he forced himself to turn away. Seeing the bottle on the table, he was reminded of his purpose down here. He walked towards it, fingers gracing the neck of the bottle.

“And you… You did not choose to go to Valinor? I am sure Elrond would have welcomed your company.”

“I could have gone,” Legolas said slowly. “Though I could not have left without returning home at least once.”

Thranduil’s eyes fell shut for a moment, and his fingers lifted from the cool glass of the bottle.

“You remember what day it is?” he asked after some hesitation. His thumb ran over the rim of the glass he’d poured earlier, wanting, _needing_ , but resisting.

Legolas sighed and stepped closer to his father, though he kept a distance between them, knowing his father favoured some space. “I thought I was the only one who couldn’t forget.”

Thranduil lifted his hand off the glass and turned back to his son, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “You think I might forget?” Before Legolas could correct himself, Thranduil let out a long breath, his eyes fluttering as the mask of strength he had held throughout the day left him. He looked exhausted, the usual appearance of grace and authority giving way to grief and burden. “I may not speak of your mother, but not a day goes by that I do not think of her. It almost makes me wish I was mortal.”

Legolas had no response.

“She fought for you, Legolas.” His eyes flickered between his son’s, still half convinced he was being fooled. “You meant everything to us. You still do, _ion nín_. Every day since Elrond’s news reached me of your departure with the fellowship, my faith in you never faltered, though I cannot deny I was… anxious to some degree. No one should have to see the things you’ve seen, though I cannot think of one as strong to bear the burden.”

There fell a silence so sweet, yet so fragile that breathing itself seemed too loud. As fleeting as the passing of time is to the immortal, time spent apart is amplified to lifetimes.

The uncertainty of the quest had never failed to cross Thranduil’s mind, as it did everyone’s. Everything could have gone horribly wrong. Sauron could have had the Ring, the hobbits defeated, the Uruk-hai stronger. It was but by a thread that the fate of Middle-Earth depended, yet they had succeeded. They had succeeded, and the most glaring evidence was that his son was standing before him.

“ _Goheno nin_ , _Ada_ ,” Legolas whispered before wrapping his arms around his father.

For a moment, Thranduil was caught off guard, but it wasn’t long before his resolve gave way to the turmoil that had been festering inside. He’d let himself believe he was the one lending support in the embrace, reassuring his son, yet not moments later the only thought that ran through his head was, _he’s alive_. Every second that they stood like that added to the reality that Legolas was indeed in front of him. He had endured.

The loss of control had been so sudden, yet it sneaked upon him to the point where he hadn’t even noticed that he was crying, clutching onto Legolas as if he was afraid of losing him. Thranduil knew he had worried, but the overwhelming reality that he could have _lost_ Legolas only materialized when he was there, returned and safe in his arms.

“You’re alive,” Thranduil whispered. Legolas gave him a slight squeeze, and Thranduil dropped his head to his son’s shoulder, wrapping his arms tighter, one hand cradling the back of his head. “ _Mae tollen na mar._ ”

Legolas had few words to give, and replied with what little he had. “ _Na vedui._ ”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Translations:  
> Ion nín – my son  
> Goheno nin, Ada – forgive me, dad  
> Mae tollen na mar – welcome home  
> Na vedui – at last
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](http://www.thranstille.tumblr.com)


End file.
